Dragonheart
by CatharticKnightmare
Summary: Drake, strongest of the Hoenn Elite Four, is a living legend. The man has seen more than any other trainer, and his origins are practically myth. Yet he knows. He does not forget. And it's the origins that define the trainer: and give him the strength to fly with dragons.


Water, and mist. Those were his life. All he saw, as his boots struck the wood that made up the land of Pacifidlog.  
>"Drake." As he reached the edge of the pitifully small town, a cool voice drifted over to him. Like a breeze on a summer day. Sitting down, he undid the laces of his black boots and tossed them to one side: sitting down on the raft, letting his feet slip beneath the waves. He sighed,<br>"What's up?"  
>"You don't seem very happy to see me."<br>"I'm always happy to see you." A shadow moved to sit beside him, dipping her bare feet into the water alongside his. She brushed her golden hair out of the way, letting the sun light up her face, and bronze her skin. He never understood why she did – she often complained about the heat of the sun. How she preferred the cold.  
>"So what's wrong?"<br>"Nothing." He didn't look at her, though he was sure she looked beautiful. She always did. Instead, he focussed on the calm scene before him – the lightly lapping waves, like a faithful hound, and all the sea creatures he could imagine swimming beneath. A particularly friendly Horsea swam up, brushing against his small calves as it went by, weaving in and out between the great groups of Magikarp, Tentacool and Corsola. Drake stared at them with a silent longing.  
>"You never admit when you're upset, do you?" She shuffled closer to him.<br>"My Dad calls it 'stoic'. He likes it. But then, when you're in a storm, and everyone looks to you to help them…I guess you can't be afraid, right? Or sad."  
>"Which are you?"<br>Now he did turn to her, smiling the slightest smile,  
>"You're always so serious aren't you?"<br>She took offense,  
>"Coming from you? I'm just looking out for you! If you weren't so quiet lately, we could go have some fun!"<br>At that, Drake fell silent again, returning to his watch. It was a pilgrimage he'd made a hundred times before – what else was there to do on an island like this, when you're not working, or swimming? There was no land to run on, no trees to climb, no new places to explore. Just twenty square feet of wood and huts. Once the shoals had been explored, once the seafloor had been graced, once the ships had been sailed, watched as they left and seen as they returned…well, that was a day's worth of activity. But after?  
>"I'm sorry." The burst of heat had faded, as her blonde hair fell forward to shadow her features. Now her voice was as cool as it could be, as she liked to practice it.<br>"What for? You've done nothing wrong."  
>"I didn't come here to yell at you." In spite of the ice in her voice, there was a pang of regret, "Especially right before your birthday. Especially this one." Reaching behind her, she pulled something forward. Glancing, Drake saw it; a box, small and neat, and lightly tied with ribbons. She held it forward, "Happy birthday."<br>"Prisma…" he was about to say she shouldn't have, how thankful he was, and a hundred other things. As it was, a flicker of the old excitement dispelled his cloud, and he yanked it open. Roughly, the ribbons fell away and the box opened. Reaching his empty hand in, Drake pulled it back to find his grasp filled with an object – a sphere, a perfect fit for his small palm. The colour of the ball was divided, red above, white below, separated by a breaking line around the centre, and a button on the edge. A Poké Ball.  
>"You still want to be a trainer right? There you go!" She was smiling now, looking at his face for a return as he gazed, dumbfounded at the item in his fist.<br>"Where did you get this?" It was as though his brain had gone sluggish, giddy. He wanted to tell her so many things, yet that was all he could muster. As he stared at the key to one of his twin dreams, in the palm of his hand.  
>"Well, it was tough what with there being no Poké Mart here and all. I saved up my allowance, and trusted one of the sailors to bring me one back. He did!" She was smiling even more now. Though Prisma had been drawn to the ice all her life, and wanted to be cool and calm in all her words and actions, that was not the place for a child. The excitement, the life melted her.<br>"Thank you." Drake twitched slightly, as for a moment he wildly wanted to pull her into a hug. But he didn't. He caught himself at the last second, keeping his seat. He held up the Poké Ball to the sky, letting the rays of a setting sun wash over it in an orange glow.  
>Prisma, her smile slightly fading, shuffled over to him,<br>"Do you remember what they used to tell us, when we were little? About the great green dragon who lives on the tower, just out of sight of here?"  
>"That's not true." Lowering the Poké Ball, Drake held it in his lap, now with the rippling sea as its backdrop, "If it was true, we'd hear it, or see it, as it flew in and out. Besides, dragons never rest."<br>"Everything has to rest."  
>"Not everything. Trainers never really rest. They just…wait, in places they've never seen before. Looking at how beautiful, how wonderful everything is. Then they move on to the next adventure. There's no resting. No stopping."<br>Prisma leant sideways, resting her head on his shoulder,  
>"Is that really what you want to do?"<br>"Of course. Don't you?" She smiled,  
>"Well…there's a lot of things I want. Sure, I'd love to cross the sea, visit the different regions…see the lights to the north of Sinnoh…but there's a lot here, too. We're a small town, and it might need us to make it great."<br>"Uh…sure. But if you were given the chance, seriously given the chance, you'd go, wouldn't you? Go travel with your friends, see the world outside of this little place we've lived our whole lives?"  
>An adult's voice was calling out now, shouting out Prisma's name. She nimbly leapt to her feet,<br>"Of course," she still smiled at Drake, "But there a worse places to be than here, Drake. You should remember that." Turning, she began to run towards the voice, before skidding to a stop and turning around one last time,  
>"Oh, and happy birthday!"<br>Like that, she was gone. Pulling his feet out of the water, Drake dried them off with a few quick sprints on the sun-stained wood, before pulling his boots on. With one last reverent look, he stuffed the Poké Ball inside his black jacket. It wouldn't do to let his parents see it just yet.

The small, unremarkable wooden hut that Drake called his home was situated on the opposite side of Pacifidlog. Still, it took him a painfully short time to reach it. Stepping inside, he took off his boots and cast them by the door before making a break straight for his room. He wasn't fast enough.  
>"Drake? Are you alright?" Sticking her head out from behind the open doorway from the main room of their hut to the small alcove that served as a kitchen, his mother appeared. She sounded concerned, although the slightest suspicion tainted her voice.<br>"I'm fine." Speaking with a practiced chirp, Drake half-smiled, "Nothing to report."  
>"Oh? What've you been doing all day then?"<br>"…stuff. Learning, swimming, practicing sailing. You know, the usual."  
>"That's nice. Have you seen Prisma at all today?"<br>"A little."  
>"You should spend more time with her. She's a good girl, and her parents have lived on Pacifidlog all their lives."<br>"And isn't that just great." Unnoticed, a third voice had joined the conversation, similar to Drake's but deeper, and with a booming aspect to it. The mother frowned at his words,  
>"It IS great. Not enough people realise that we in the community, with our home being so small, have to sometimes put it before ourselves if it's going to survive. Anyway," she smiled, though it was a little forced after the stress of her previous words, "Dinner's ready." Setting three plates down at a small round table, she sat down. Drake, with little choice, moved to join her. As his father strode past him to take his seat, he brushed slightly against Drake's jacket. His father frowned at the contact, before sitting down.<br>"So Drake," his mother perked up, "Any ideas what you want to do for your birthday tomorrow?" He mumbled something incoherent, and stuffed his mouth with some food. He wasn't quite prepared for the conversation just yet, but he knew it had to come up. Soon.  
>"What was that?" his father turned to him, uncertain if he had misheard because of his own chewing, or the fact that Drake hadn't actually said anything.<br>"Stuff," Drake replied, before taking another mouthful. There was safety in silence.  
>"Oh come on, Drake, you've got to be a little more specific than that! Otherwise, how are you going to have a good birthday if you don't actually prepare anything for it?"<br>"A _birthday _wander round this 'island' wouldn't be any different than a regular one," his father muttered. His mother shot her husband an angry glance,  
>"Perhaps, if you've got nothing planned, you'd like to go for a sail. Perhaps he could visit your hometown, dear? Maybe a little holiday would make you both appreciate how quaint and precious our home is." At that his father snorted,<br>"It would take weeks of sailing to reach my home. Besides, I don't think I even remember exactly where it is. But a sail isn't a bad idea. A bit of adventure, a bit of fresh air in your lungs…a life of travel is one of the most precious lives you can lead. Don't you think Drake?"  
>His father fixed him with a look now that was part encouraging, and part painfully intense. As his mother fell silent in unison, the air thickened with an uninvited tension that all came back to Drake, as both adults watched him. Waiting for his response.<br>Drake buckled. Half-nodding, half-shaking his head, he mumbled another incoherent sentence and shoved in another mouthful of food like lightning. His plate was nearly empty.  
>His mother sniffed lightly, and straightened deliberately, "I would hope Drake would understand that a life fraught with unknowable danger, and no real contribution to society, is hardly a substitute for a peaceful life of honest work."<br>"And I hope that he remembers the joy of the hunt, and all the beauty that cannot be found on your doorstep. And I think somebody can hardly make a better contribution to society than by partaking in that which defines your society. For us, for Hoenn at least, I'd argue that's Pokémon. You wanted to be a trainer when you were younger, didn't you Drake?" As Drake swallowed his last mouthful of suddenly unwelcome meal, he turned to his dad. His face was warm and inviting, and Drake tried to block out his mother's anxious, irritated opposite as he finally mustered the courage to speak.  
>"I did," he said, staring intently at his father, "And I still do. Mum, dad, tomorrow I'd like to travel to Littleroot town. I want to get a Pokémon and become a trainer." His father smiled and nodded, a twinkle in his eyes. His mother took a deep breath.<br>"No." His father turned to her,  
>"What do you mean, 'no'?"<br>"I mean, I won't have Drake wasting his time in glorified entertainment while his home, that has nurtured him since he was a child, suffers for his selfishness! Other, better off communities may be able to afford the luxury of wasting their children's potential, but ours does not." She stood up, "How many people come to live here, versus how many who leave? Our home is dying, Drake! We need boys like you, boys and girls strong like you to build, to expand, to maintain this little island, or it, and everything it's stood for, crumbles into nothing!"  
>Her face was red, and she seemed to just realise how loud her voice had become, when she finally finished her speech. Sitting down once again, she took a moment to compose herself, but still trembled lightly as she said,<br>"No, no. I am your mother Drake, and I will not allow you to live this selfish way. Choose something else, anything else, and you may have that. We should have settled this long before now, I'm sorry to say."  
>Drake sat, numb. He hadn't even gotten a chance to speak for what he loved. Tears welled up in his eyes, though he turned his head so he could quickly blink them out, unseen. He had been sure, so sure that when this day came he would be old enough to argue, to make himself heard that this was what he wanted, and that no matter how much his mum, or he loved their hometown, he wouldn't offer up his life for it. But he hadn't. He couldn't. And now here he sat, unable to think, or feel anything but pain.<br>"Drake, go to your room." His father said quietly. "Your mother and I need a word."  
>Turning, Drake stormed away as quickly as he could, closing the tiny wooden door once he reached the safety of his tiny room. With a repressed scream of rage, he took out the Poké Ball and threw it at the wall with such a force that it bounced off, unharmed, and landed on his bed. His parents didn't hear it. They were already arguing, his mother shouting as his father responded with forced calm, but iron in his voice. Throwing himself on his bed, Drake closed his eyes. He didn't want to be awake. Still, he could not sleep with the voices still bombarding him through the thin, pitiless wood.<br>_He's just a boy, he doesn't know what he wants, when he's older he'll-  
>Be living the life you've conditioned him to want. You may be his mother but-<br>If you even think of taking him off this island tomorrow, I swear I'll-_

They didn't stop. The voices went on and on, until his consciousness abandoned him and Drake slipped gratefully into the dark.

It was still dark when he woke.  
>"Drake." A voice, deathly quiet, called out, "Drake, wake up." As Drake unwillingly pried his eyes open, the door to his room opened without as much as a sound. There stood a figure, shadowed by a black longcoat and a captain's hat.<br>"Wha-"  
>"Shh. Get dressed. Time to leave." Reaching down, the figure picked up a small red-and-white object that must have rolled off his bed.<br>"And catch." Drake caught it.  
>Within seconds Drake and his father we're outside, his father tilting his head so he could see the moon in its full glory. Quickly, he began to stride across the island, his boots moving silently across the planks. Drake followed.<br>"What're we-"  
>"Shh. The less people see us, the better." They walked towards the edge of the island where the ships weighed anchor, specifically to the great old wooden leviathan that was his father's. With hushed footsteps and whispered tones, Drake saw men running back and forth across it. The crew.<br>"Where are we-"  
>"You'll see soon enough." They strode up the gangplank as the last knots that tied the ship to harbour were undone, and the anchor was raised. With a hoisted sail, and a benevolent night's wind, they were gone faster than Drake would've believed. As the tide carried them quickly away from the island towards Slateport, Drake watched as his home became smaller and smaller in the distance. Whatever was going on, his father clearly hadn't agreed it with his mother and despite the hope that had kindled in his chest, Drake still felt the dread of his return.<br>"Dad, where are we going?"  
>"To set you on your way, kid. You're strong, smart, and you've got a bit of bravery about you. Travel will test, and toughen that. But above all, you have a good heart. You respect your mother's wishes, and against your own heart and dreams, you respect the island. And the people on it. But your life, Drake, should never be lived solely for the good of another, be it a person, a town or a nation. Your life is your own. And if you want to be a trainer with all of your heart, I will not be the one to stop you. True love breeds virtue. And virtue breeds the best of trainers."<br>Drake thought about this for a while. It was true, his heart was suddenly filled with an inexpressible joy. He wanted to jump and shout and sing to the world. But something still nagged. Something remained.  
>"What're you…with mum and all…when we get back?" This time, his father's smile was sad.<br>"I love your mother Drake, I really do. But she was born and raised on that island, as were her parents before her. She's been raised, every step of the way, to put the island before all else. To keep it afloat, and keep the dreams and actions of her ancestors alive, at the expense of the self. I…I had travelled a lot before I came to Pacifidlog, washed up on a broken scrap of ship. And I did love her, so our life there was not at my expense. But I won't deny you the joy I've known, Drake. I couldn't do that."  
>With that, Drake watched as his father, slightly sheepish, went to roar orders to his crew. Squinting in the distance, he could already see Slateport approaching. Surely the thing to do now was to turn south, head around Dewford, and make for Petalburg, before reaching Littleroot and the Pokémon lab there. Wasn't it?<br>"Weigh anchor!" His father suddenly barked, "We make port here!" After so recently having his hopes smashed, Drake was not keen to repeat the experience. Quickly sprinting across the wooden deck, he went over to the captain.  
>"Dad! What're we doing?" His father ignored him, "Stow the sails, get us into a discreet part of this bloody port. I don't want this ship being seen!"<br>"DAD!" He quickly turned,  
>"What, Drake?"<br>"What're we doing? We should be heading for Littleroot!" With a quick gesture for Drake to follow, his father moved to the edge of the ship as it docked in the farthest corner of the harbour, and the gangplank was dropped once more. With a quick shout to his first mate to sort out any issues with the harbourmaster, he turned back to his son,  
>"Drake, do you really think your mother won't realise we're gone until morning?" For a moment, his voice caught in his throat. He…hoped? How would they know?<br>"Maybe?"  
>"Maybe," his father conceded, "But unlikely. More likely is that someone saw us leave, and went to tell her. We were hardly discrete in our arguing yesterday, and your mother has many friends on the island. Many of them sailors. Odds are she'll guess where we're headed, and try to intercept us." The information whirled through Drake's head in a whirlwind.<br>"So what are we doing?"  
>"There's more than one way to get a Pokémon, son."<p>

Both men fell silent as they left the ship. As the crew remained to watch over her, they pressed on alone into Slateport. Quickly moving through, Drake put all his effort into keeping up as his father set an unforgiving pace through Slateport, out into the route connecting her to Mauville, through Mauville, and then north further still. With the moon watching, the tiniest changes in the sky's tint the only testimony to the movement of time, the two pressed north and north, through the grass, over the rocks, into the mountains. They moved through the fiery heart of a lava path, back out into the green, then north further still. They pushed through one of the most northern towns Hoenn had to offer, silent and sleepy, ignorant to the weary travellers pressing through.  
>The distance was great. Soon Drake's feet began to blister, his legs began to ache and a sweat broke across his skin. Still, he walked. He trusted his father, and he would go through this pain a thousand times, and a thousand times again if it meant getting what he wanted. What he loved. Grimacing, he hardened his resolve and forced on at a staggering pace. Though the night hid it, his father smiled.<br>They pushed through even more grass, crossing a wooden bridge over a river, to the foot of another mountain, deserted save for more grass, and a lone house off to the side. On their journey, the two had seen countless eyes, and forms: electric Pokémon, rock Pokémon, fire Pokémon, Spinda, even flying Pokémon that half looked as if they wanted to be dragons. Drake looked at one such now, so cloud-like and fluffy that it made his tired eyes waver. He clutched his Poké Ball to his chest, wondering if he should try his luck. One good swing was all he needed, and the fluffy, flying goodness would be his. Quite frankly, he wanted to sleep on it.  
>"Don't," his father warned, "Odds are you wouldn't catch it. You need to weaken it first."<br>"But how?" That was the whole concept of starters, surely. So you could weaken other Pokémon to catch them, otherwise how could any trainer start? His father had his Pokémon to hand. They had been safeguarding them for the entire journey. Would he weaken them for him?  
>"I won't weaken them for you." Damn. "Will you find a way?" His father stared at him once again, "Your mother loves your home, it's true. But part of her is just scared as to what will happen to you. To make a Pokémon strong, you must have a virtuous heart. But while you, and your Pokémon are growing strong, you must still be able to protect yourself. Prove you can do that, and your dreams will be yours."<br>They had reached small cavern, an entrance to the mountain, it seemed. Drake could see the light at the end.  
>"This is a place called Meteor Falls. There are many Pokémon here. But the terrain is rugged, harsh. Perhaps you can use that to your advantage." Drake hesitated. There was so much that could go wrong. What if he failed? What if he was attacked? He waited. Momentarily paralysed by fear.<br>"Do you want to do this?"  
>Dreams or fear. Dreams or fear. Dreams or fear. Over and over and over and…<br>Dreams.  
>He took one step forward. Then another, then another. Soon, he was in the mountain's mouth, pushing through the dank and dark. Then, he broke into the light.<br>He was by a great series of waterfalls, a huge, cascading blue wonder carved into the heart of the mountain. Stones of all colours, shapes and sizes littered the floor around him, and he saw all manner of Pokémon in the distance. Great rock-types that looked like the sun. Others, like the moon. For a moment, Drake just paused, letting the spray of the water, the salt, rejuvenate him. It reminded him of home, and of his loves. Of Prisma. Setting off, he began to look.  
>Though there were many Pokémon there, none struck him as he'd hoped. None were the great green dragon of legend that he'd dreamed of when he was younger. None spoke of the sea and sky, of flight. He wanted to fly with his Pokémon, to see the world small below him, and know he was bound to no one spot on its glorious surface. None of these Pokémon looked like they could fly.<br>He climbed higher and higher up the mountain, dragging his body up ledges it should have been impossible to climb. At one point he crossed the waterfall itself, using the stones he could just reach breaking the tide to get from one side to the other. He avoided the more aggressive Pokémon, looking for the one he needed. He had always hoped a destiny awaited him. He wanted this to be his destiny. He wanted his destined partner.  
>As the weariness once again kicked in, he paused, catching his breath. As he did, a sound caught his ears. Smash, smash, smash. It began to irritate him. Smash, smash, smash. That wasn't any Pokémon's cry. Smash, smash, smash. Was somebody digging? Was somebody getting crushed? Smash, smash, smash. He moved towards the source of the noise.<br>Inside one of the tiniest alcoves of the mountain, a sub-cave that kind of reminded him of home, he saw it. A small Pokémon, blue, with fangs in its mouth and a white crest to its head that must have protected it well because it was slamming its head into the wall with an earth-shattering force. Over and over again. Why? Why was it doing this? What did it gain? Would it eat the rock once it crumbled? Did it want to carve itself a home?  
>Or was it just frustrated with its life. Grounded in its empty home, unable to see the rest of the world. How everyone else lived.<br>Panting, Drake realised he wasn't getting any energy back. The lack of sleep, the march from Slateport to here, and now the climbing…he was exhausted. If he didn't catch a Pokémon soon, he would be finished. And his tenth birthday would come and go, and he'd never get another chance at this. He'd just be another failure. Doomed, to a lifetime in his own shallow corner of the world.  
>"RRRRRRRAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGHHHHHHH!" Seizing the nearest stone he could find, he bundled up all his frustration and hurled it at the Pokémon. It bounced off its rock head.<br>But it angered the Pokémon. Turning, it saw him. Fire burned in its eyes, and its teeth looked sharp.  
>"Uh oh."<br>Turning, Drake ran, all exhaustion forgotten as the Pokémon roared and pursued him. Desperate, he quickly began to climb the mountain, more stones crumbling behind him as he scrambled. He could hear the Pokémon climbing too, with difficulty, as it followed him. Fear gave him adrenaline, and Drake used that as he climbed and sprinted as hard as he could. Rocks tore at his feet, water from the waterfall soaked him, and his own body railed against the torment of the run, as he put it through a trial it had never known before. Still the Pokémon cried out, and pursued him.  
>But he ascended. Though the mountain rose high, he rose with it. Climbing every jutting rock, dodging every small cascade, rising ever higher as the ground became a dizzying mist beneath him. Flagging, the Pokémon still followed. Together, in a chase so exhausting that Drake almost wanted to laugh, they climbed higher and higher.<br>Eventually, Drake was forced to stop. His hands dropped to his knees as he panted and gasped for breath, using all that was left of his energy just to stop himself from collapsing. Glancing up as he wiped the stinging sweat from his eyes, he saw the dawning sun begin to break through. It lit up Meteor Falls in a storm of colours, a spectrum of iridescent beauty, pinks, reds, oranges illuminating him in the warm caress of the star. Stumbling, he walked towards it. Leaning out of the mountain where he had spent so long running, he saw the cliff that reached outside. He saw the sky, growing ever bluer as the sun rose, flickering flaming fingers all over the earth. A patch of grass crunched under his foot as he reached the edge. Sitting down, exhaustion numbed all thoughts in his mind as he simply sat, gazing into the beauty of the world. His world. He wanted it all.  
>A gasping, growled cry broke his reverie. Not that it bothered him – he was too content. Turning, he fixed an eye on the Pokémon. All of it, from its white ridges to the yellow patches of its blue body, were caked in dust, stone and sweat. Still it stumbled towards him, growling weakly. It fell.<br>Turning, Drake walked forward and carefully lifted it. Though it feebly tried to snap, to bite him, it was too tired. Cradling the small creature, he carried it towards the edge of the cliff. Sitting down, he rested it beside him. The Pokémon looked out.  
>At that moment, silhouetted against the sky, a great beast took flight. In the distance, both Drake and the Pokémon saw a winged giant soaring, its barely-distinguishable red wings beating at the air. With half a smile, Drake threw his Poké Ball up and down. Could he throw that far? Not a chance. But he did want to fly. Turning, he saw the Pokémon's eyes widen beside him. It was captivated – staring completely at the winged beast before them, even as it soared up and away, disappearing from sight. A breath escaped it, almost like a sigh. Breathing slowly, Drake spoke,<br>"So…you want to fly too, huh?"  
>The Pokémon looked in confusion as Drake slowly rested his Poké Ball on the grass beside them. Rising ever higher, the sun cast its sight on the object, lighting it up for both man and beast to see. Looking out over the cliff again, the Pokémon's eyes fell. What must it be like to be him, he wondered. Trapped. Lost in a sea of land, but with no way to achieve your dreams. Living a life of constant mockery, from yourself, from the capricious spirits that put you there…all of this showed in the Pokémon's eyes. It's low, staring, defeated eyes.<br>"Look…I may not be the best trainer in the world. I'm not experienced, I've got no idea if I'm talented at being a trainer…but I promise you this. Come with me, and we will fly. No matter what it takes."  
>The Pokémon looked at him, and it must have heard a note of truth in his voice. Slowly, it rose and crept towards him. Picking up the Poké Ball, Drake simply let it roll from his fingers. Rolling towards the Pokémon, they collided – and in a flash of white light, it disappeared, and the Ball rolled to a shaky stop on the cliff.<br>Reverently, Drake picked it up. He had succeeded. He had a partner. He was going to be a trainer. Placing the Poké Ball against his forehead, he closed his eyes and repeated his oath. He meant what he had said – he and his new partner, they would fly.  
>"Drake! DRAKE!"<br>He heard a voice roaring for him in the distance, back inside the mountain. Turning, he placed his Poké Ball protectively inside his jacket, and began to descend.  
>"DAD! I'm alright!"<br>Painfully slowly, his wrecked body shaking with every effort, Drake reached the bottom of the cliff. As his feet hit the solid ground, his legs shook and he fell to his knees. A black-coated figure rushed over and gently helped him to his feet.  
>"You're alright? You were gone for a long time, it's already morning. Happy birthday," his father smiled, "How did you do?"<br>Slowly, almost disbelieving, Drake pulled out the Poké Ball. Had it been a dream? He threw it softly, and the white light erupted once again. His friend emerged, growling tiredly, but ready nonetheless. His father watched,  
>"A Bagon…that's a rare and powerful partner you have, Drake. Well done."<br>Collapsing once again, Drake laughed. A laugh of relief, a laugh of exhaustion, a laugh of pure joy. Bagon trotted over and rested beside him.  
>"He'll be difficult to train. Dragons always are. But after that…you can handle it. Just remember Drake," the smile faded from his father's face, replaced by an utterly complete intensity, "Treat your partners well. They will give up their freedom to stand by you. You must repay that, by leading them well. By leading them right. The times of childhood, of all those petty flaws that mark us as we grow…you have to let these go now. To be ready to lead. To have the heart of a leader.<br>Solemnly, Drake lowered his head,  
>"I'm ready." The smile returned to his father's face, and he offered his hand.<br>"Come one then. There's one last gauntlet to run, before you start the chapter that will define your life."

Twenty-four hours. Just twenty-four hours, and everything had changed. He stood, watching the sun disappear once again over the ocean. Bagon, rested, sat by his side, looking at the alien environment of Pacifidlog with no small amount of concern. No rocks, so much water…what was this place?  
>To Drake though, it was all too familiar. He wondered how long it would take to miss. His father had offered to take him to the mainland, an offer he'd happily accepted. He'd returned, gathered the gear he'd need. Said goodbye to his hysterical mother. She was still at the house now, berating, crying, ferociously arguing with his father. He didn't want any part of that. He was content here, now.<br>"Drake."  
>"Hey Prisma." He'd been wondering what to say to her. He still didn't know now.<br>"So that's your Pokémon?" Bagon turned around to stare quizzically at the new arrival. Drake turned with him. Her face lit up by the setting sun, her blonde hair cast back by the wind, she'd never looked better. But her face was a mix of emotions – fascination as she looked at Bagon, and…something else when she looked at him. Bagon trotted over, and despite her hesitation, Prisma knelt down and scratched him under the chin. The dragon almost smiled, bouncing from one foot to the other.  
>"Yeah. We're leaving for the mainland soon."<br>"I know. I…heard your parents arguing."  
>"…Prisma?"<br>"Yes?"  
>"What do you want to do with your life?"<br>She fell silent at that. Looking at her feet as Bagon trotted back. Drake felt a sudden urge to speak, and this time he didn't hold back,  
>"Come with me."<br>"What?"  
>"You said you would travel, right, given the chance? There's a chance right here. We can go travel together. Me and Bagon can help you catch a Pokémon of your own, that wouldn't be a problem. It would be great!"<br>She fell silent again. Her head was downcast, as if she was refusing to look at him. With a sigh, Drake dropped his head,  
>"Why not?"<br>"Drake, you're leaving. From what I heard, your dad is leaving. And if he's leaving, he's going to take his crew with him. This place is about to get a lot smaller. And…it's my home. I'm not going to abandon it too."  
>"Do you think I should have stayed?"<br>"No! Of course not," her head rose, and she looked him dead in the eyes, "This is what you love, and what you want to do. Nobody can ever take that away from you. But…I want my home. I want to keep it alive. There's no other place like it…so I'm staying."  
>The silence that fell between them now was thicker than before. But it didn't last long. Stepping forward, Drake awkwardly and tenderly hugged her.<br>"I'll miss you."  
>"I'll miss you too." They held on for what felt like an eternity. Breaking apart, only at the sound of approaching footsteps.<br>"I'll come and visit all the time. I won't ever forget you."  
>"I know." And with that Prisma turned and ran away. Away from him, and out of his life.<br>Bagon stomped on the wooden planks angrily. He didn't like the sense of sadness. His stomps were matched by the louder footsteps of the approaching figure, a gust of wind blowing back the coat of the man who strode into view.  
>"So, Drake. Ready to leave?" His father's face was red, especially around the eyes. But there was a sad smile around his lips.<br>"Is…is everything sorted?" His father looked back, before facing him again.  
>"I'm going to be travelling for a while Drake. Truth be told, your mother and I haven't been seeing eye to eye for a while. I think a little fresh air, a little thinking space is in order for all of us. Have you said your goodbyes?" He looked back again, though who he was looking for Drake didn't know. Drake nodded,<br>"I have."  
>"Good. Then are you ready to go?"<br>Drake looked down at Bagon, his cleaned ridges glistening white in the air, his blue body almost invisible when back-dropped by the sea. He had a promise to keep.  
>"Yes."<br>"Well then, let's get to it."

* * *

><p><strong>Well if you got this far, I suppose you read it all. Thank you for reading :) any critiques are happily appreciated, so if anything particularly galled you about this please feel free to point it out in a review. Equally, if you loved anything in particular about this, point it out in a review! I can then use that goodness again, and I will also feel all warm and fuzzy inside.<strong>

**So...yeah. First story. Yay! Had this in the works for a while, only just got around to finishing it. Like my writing? Want me to write something for you? Check my profile and send me an E-Mail. I need the practice (as this fic probably demonstrates...).**

**And sorry for the formatting. It was so pretty in word...damn you story mode and your lack of tab! Any advice regarding formatting for this website is very much appreciated.**

**Thank you for your time. Peace out!**

**- Will**


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